Welcome to the Freak Show
by rwtf Snazzy
Summary: This is not a fairy tale, this will not have a happy ending, and is not a story for the faint of heart. This will be an ungodly, morbid horror story that the girls find themselves in.Supernatural freaks included. Better summary inside. Faberry & Brittana
1. Chapter 1

Longer summary: Fate has a twisted sense of humor when it brings the girls back together in the most ungodly of ways. As a freakshow Ring Master rallies up different supernatural's to his collection, the girls find themselves among the damned. He intends on using Rachel's voice to eventually create chaos among the world, so he and his pack of Freaks can come out of the shadows. The Unholy trinity may not be human anymore, but Rachel is, and they are determined to save her life before it's too late.  
**This story will contain plenty of gore, disturbing characters, deaths, and anything else filed under horror fiction. I suck at summaries okay. You've been warned.**

Also. It will be focusing around Faberry even though this first chapter is dedicated to Brittana. It has to start somewhere doesn't it?

* * *

Insistent ringing of a phone finally forces Santana to roll over in bed, and almost knocks everything off the nightstand just looking for it.

"Hello?" Her voice is coated in grogginess.

"Afternoon Santana," the voice laughs though the phone. "It's so nice of you to finally join the rest of the world of the living."

_Brittany.  
_  
A smile spreads across the Latina's face and she rolls over on her back.

"Hi, Beautiful." She says rubbing the tiredness from her eyes. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" is trying to be said behind a laugh.

"Well San, I was going to get you for lunch and talk to you about something. However, seeing as you won't be ready when I get back home, I'll just tell you when I see you." Brittany laughs, says her sweet 'I love yous' and hangs up the phone.

It doesn't take Brittany long to get back to their loft. Whatever she mentioned on the phone, she was really excited about it. When she walks in, Santana is sitting on the couch flipping through an old magazine. Brittany tosses her sweater on a chair, dances over to Santana and tackles her into the couch with kisses. Santana grabs her sides' mid-kiss, and Brittany tries her best to squirm free from their tickling grip. Their fingers intertwine when she shows mercy for the girl. Santana's head falls to the side while staring up at the blonde who is now on her lap.

"So what was it you rushed home for, other than the obvious of course," Santana jokes motioning to herself with their locked hands.

"Oh yeah!" she leans over Santana and to the end of the couch where she left her bag. Santana can't resist the opportunity. She breaks her hands free, and makes for another attack at Brittany's sides as the dancer shrieks out in laughter. The two of them flip off of the couch and tumble down to the floor. There is no way Brittany can contain that adorable laugh, and soon enough, neither can Santana. Brittany begs for Santana to stop or she's sure she is going to die; it takes a little longer but eventually, Santana does.

Santana hovers over Brittany's body, grinning down like an idiot when Brittany looks up at her.

"Can I show you now, or do I risk another attack?" the smiled that gleams back at Santana only makes her laugh, nodding her head to go ahead with whatever Brittany was reaching for. She stretches over to the bag for a moment, then snaps back to Santana raising a finger at her. "Saaaan," her eyebrow rises in suspicion.

Santana can't help the noise that escapes her.

"I promise," She tells Brittany. She is still a little hesitant, but the smile is pretty clear across that wonderful face of hers. It takes her a minute to rummage around her bag until she finally pulls out a small, folded up piece of paper; she keeps it close to her chest like a prize possession.

"Okay, so, don't judge me alright?" she says cautiously. Santana shakes her head and leans down for a small kiss.

"Never," She whispers against her lips.

Brittany turns the piece of paper around and at the top, there are large bolded words written an eerie font promoting a 'once in a lifetime' event.

"A freak show?" She is actually surprised.

"I know, I know, weird right? That's what I thought," Brittany twists the paper up to read it, and then lets Santana see it once more. "But when I was leaving school today, I could hear it a few blocks away. There was this guy passing out these flyers, and he gave me one. Something about it just seems so exciting, and I mean I've never been to one so I thought why not ask San if she wanted to go."

Santana listens to Brittany go on about how strange the man looked wearing the shows get-up, but the words never really could sink in. Santana dips her head to Brittany's chest and dusts light kisses up all the way to the blondes shoulder, mumbling 'Mhmm's and 'yeahs' too distracted by the taste of Brittany's skin under her lips. Brittany would giggle to herself, trying to get Santana to stop so she could finish, but Santana just couldn't quit what she was doing. Santana reaches back to her mouth and kisses her softly when she feels Brittany's hands rest on the sides of her face. She pulls back with that childish grin back on her face.

"Anything for you." Santana says. Brittany vibrates with an excitement that only managed to spark her laughing again and pulls Santana down for more kisses.

When they arrive, the largest show tent is packed with pretentious college students egger to get their drinking started early. Brittany holds on to Santana's hand tight, leading the way through the crowds of people. The further in the twisted carnival they found themselves, something in the air starts to give Santana a new sense of excitement. Before they had gotten there, she wasn't too sure what to expect or if she would even like it in the first place. However now, sitting alongside of Brittany as the masses of people made their way to the seats, Santana was getting more amped up for the show just to start. A wave of adrenaline rushes over her and she actually doesn't want to wait any longer; Brittany is bouncing with just as much eagerness.

After a few more minutes, the lights cutoff and cause the audience to start screaming; Brittney and Santana are oddly among these people. A loud voice booms over the speakers, sending a nasty chill down their spines.

"Good evening Ladies, and gents! "

More screams come from the fans,

"Welcome, to the freak show!" A light beams to the center of the tent, focusing on a man in a top hat, torn and tattered tux, and a black cane to tie the outfit together. Brittany is standing now, screaming with everyone else, cheering, and waving her hands at him like she's been a fan for years. Before Santana knows it, she's doing it too, and it feels like she is a totally different person.

"We have a terrible show planned for your entertainment," the crowed laughs in unison. "Now, are you ready for the show of your lives!" He yells aggressively into the hanging microphone; the audience eats it up, and somehow manages to cheer even louder. This unfamiliar feeling starts to take over Santana's entire body, it consumes her. Music blasts from the overhead speakers, jutting deep into the girl's hearts with ferocious beats, telling the entire world, the show has just begun.

Brittany is in another one of her uncontrollable laughing fits when they head out of the tent. Santana's mind is foggy, like she had a head buzz going on, and can't make much sense of what they had just witnessed. It feels like everything she had seen, was like a hazy dream; obviously that couldn't be the case since her and Brittany were still holding on to the excitement they felt when they first arrived.

A stranger bumps into the two girls, sends their hands apart, and whisks Santana further away from Brittany with the leaving horde. After a few minutes of letting the crowd flood out from the tent, Santana can make out that Brittany is talking to a man alongside of the Freakshow tent. She pushes a couple of people out of her way, and is getting more aggravated that no one is paying attention to her trying to get by.

"Brittany, let's go," Santana reaches for her arm, and then has to tug for the dancers attention when she doesn't seem to hear her. The man standing in front of Brittany steps around her and into Santana's way. He tilts his head down to look at her; with the weird drag he was wearing, he is definitely part of the show.

"Why don't you just leave this lovely lady alone, and go back home." he says as if he is commanding her to or something.

"Shove off, Asshole" Santana hisses at him slamming her hand hard into his chest to move him out of the way. She pulls Brittany behind her and when they turns around, she runs into another large body blocking their path. Her grip tightens on Brittany's hand when she looks up at the face of their blockade, noticing it is the Ring Master from the beginning of the show.

"Control your freaks." She spat at him trying to shove him out of the way too; but when he doesn't budge, a twinge of fear strikes into Santana's chest for the first time.

"I plan too." he says flatly when Brittany's hand is ripped away from Santana's, and her mouth is covered by the man's hand. Santana's fists start pounding on his chest in any effort to get him to let her go and go after Brittany. She bites his hand, and he reflexively lets go. Only for a moment though, because he proceeds to wrap his arms around Santana's waist before she can get further than two inches from him.

"Let me go! Brittany!" She calls out hearing only a faint cry out in reply; she is too far from Santana. The man lifts her off of the ground like she's as light as a feather even though she's struggling like a small child.

"You see, your love for that girl," he's pointing in Brittany's direction, "Has allowed you to escape compulsion, and I want to see just what else you are capable of."

Santana punches at his arms, kicks at his legs, but nothing is working in her favor.

"What the hell are you talking about, let me go! Let her go!"

Santana's wish is granted, just to be thrown to the ground near a terrified Brittany.

The two girls are surrounded by masses of people that are howling and hunched over like wolves ready to ambush its prey. The crowd shoves and fights each other trying to get closer to the girls like it is some sick show.

Santana protectively lunges forward to Brittney only to fail once again when she's yanked back away by another arm around her waist.

"I'll get us out of here Brittany, don't worry, don't be scared," Santana yells over the roaring crowd of freaks, trying everything she can to stop the tears swelling up in her girlfriend's eyes. The man that was holding Brittany by her arms lets her fall to the ground. Dark purple shades have already blossomed under her skin and she reaches to sooth them. Santana's chest lights on fire, and she turns to fight even harder against the arms trying to hold her in place. "It's going to be okay!" Santana calls out again, nervously starting to doubt her own words at this point.

Fear floods every inch of her when she is shoved to her knees.

The ring master crouches to Santana's level, tilting his head in a curious way before reaching under her chin, and forces Santana to look at him. The man's eyes are dark, black as far as she can tell, and they are keeping her body paralyzed; she couldn't make an escape from them even if she tried. His jaw tightens at Santana's sight, and it almost makes her sick that the proximity between them is mere inches.

"You would do anything for this girl, wouldn't you?" He asks teasingly.

"Just let her go," Santana falls short of breath, "Please."

He shakes his head giving her an apathetic look. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, I don't see you really as useful without her. Now, I think you're more powerful than you imagine so I'm going to keep you _both_around. Besides, the others want you shredded apart for themselves, but I'm just overwhelmed with curiosity. I want to see exactly what it is that happens with you."

Santana confusion is well hidden behind a disgusted face.

"This anger that is fueling you right now," he takes in a deep breath near her, "Is delicious."

Santana can't help herself, and spits at his shoes. At what point she thinks that was going to help their situation, she has no idea but does know it's a mistake instantaneously. He throws is head back in a menacing laugh. The Ring Master is suddenly standing next to Brittany, Santana's eyes widen at his speed. The Ring Master shoves the man who had given Brittany the bruises out of the way, and grabs her throat to lift her to her feet.

Trepidation finds a new level inside of Santana, and her whole being is screaming at him.

"Would you die for this women?" he demands but this time is staring Santana down; the question sends an energy through the freaks around them to holler about like a pack of hyenas.

It is sickening.

"S-Stop!" Santana's voice is strangled, raspy with fear. Brittany is being forced to stand still by the Ring masters fingers clenched around her throat. She clutches at his hands only to find the grip tightens for a second, then his arm is locked around her throat and he is using her like a human shield in front of Santana.

Santana can faintly make out the blonde shaking her head at her.

At the answer Santana will undoubtedly give.

The Ring Master tares his wrist open with his bare teeth, sending blood to spatter on the ground. A cry escapes from deep within Santana's chest when he shoves the wound right to Brittany's mouth. Blood is spilling out from the sides of the blonde's mouth. When she is clearly trying to resist it, he forces a scream out of her, and she's unable to fight against it anymore.

Her muffled screams tare Santana apart until she is screaming at the man again,

"Yes! Yes! I would!"

He yanks his hand away from Brittany's mouth; she's trying to spit out what she can manage and it takes everything she has not to get sick. It doesn't help that her body is shaking as the tears stream down her terrorized face.

"Good then." He says flatly grabbing the sides of the Brittany's face, and snaps her neck in one swift motion.

Brittany's body slumps to the ground.

Santana's entire world comes to a screeching halt, and throws her off of it. Her screams are something different now, a sound like nothing she has ever made in her life. The sound is a soul wrenching scream and the word 'no' at once. Pain is wrapping dark tendrils around Santana's throat, making her put up a fight just to scream out Brittany's name in sheer agony.

Santana can swear her body feels like it had a high speed collision with a bus. She can't breathe, but she also can't stop screaming no matter how much it's starting to hurt her; her chest heaves in and out and she's positive her lungs are filling up with cement.

The pain is unbearable seeing Brittany's lifeless body lying on the ground only a few feet away from Santana.

"Then she shouldn't have a problem killing you." His voice is cold, but promising even though it doesn't make any sense to her.

Santana's body is completely wreaked at this point. Curse words spill from her mouth at him, her heart is falling out of her chest and her lungs have finally collapsed. She begs and pleads for him to just kill her, unable to think or see clearly enough because she's crying so hard.

Santana's whole existence has been shattered in seconds. Her entire world was gone. She can't understand anything that's happening; it is grotesquely overwhelming.

"Take that one to the Turnet," His words implying to Brittany's motionless figure.

An unexpected fire ignites inside of Santana, and she's now suddenly thrashing out at the men attempting to pin her down, wildly cursing at them every word she's ever known. She can't handle the thought of someone touching Brittany, especially now, the idea floods her with an immense hate.

"Ohh, keep it coming." The Ring Master says, "This animosity you're feeling for me is, intoxicating. Oh I can't wait." He loosened his ugly tie. "One last thing," He insists.

Her hand is extended unwillingly out to the Ring Master. She lets out another cry the second his teeth pierced through her wrist, quickly feeling weaker than she thought was possible. He lets her go seconds later and wipes his mouth clean of her blood. "Such beauty." He mutters.

"I'll kill you." It is a whisper, but still loud enough he manages to hear it.

"That's what I like to hear!" It almost sounds like he's applauding her. "Take this enthusiastic one to the halls," He stands close enough for Santana to lash out at him one more time. He is enjoying this, getting aroused with excitement off of her struggle. Off of her pain. Off of her hatred.

"You're going to make a fine addition to the show. Very useful indeed." He walks away saying.

A sudden force is slammed against the side of Santana's head and the world around her goes black instantly.

Santana's body jolts her awake and she chokes on the polluted air surrounding her which ends up sending an immediate pounding to her head. She makes an attempt to reach for the main source of the thudding pain, but her arms make no movement. Where ever she is, it was dark and so cold it felt like the temperature was gradually dropping. The air is so dank and musty, it leaves a terrible taste in her mouth. Not to mention it smells, bad; In her perception, this is what a slaughter house has to smell like.

She makes another weak attempt to sit up and use her hands for support when there is a weight on them. The metal clings against the cold floor under Santana, and she presumes that they are shackles of some sort but it is too dark to see clearly.

There is screaming coming in the distance, and it isn't coming from fans or has been made out of excitement; No, this screaming was coming from pure fear and an altercation that people are screaming for their lives.

Santana's eyes are drastically becoming heavier, and she's fighting with her mind to stay conscious just a little while longer. It only takes one more scream that, in nothing flat, she can differentiate from the others.

It sounds like it came from Brittany, and instantaneously makes her heart skip.

_Stop. She's dead. And you're going to die too. That's not her. _Her mind repeats.  
_  
_Her mind starts to spin, she can't hold on any longer, and slips back into unconsciousness

Someone splashes cold water in Santana's face, and it makes her head jerk from the initial shock. Her eyes are still heavy and she can hardly remain them open. She is forced to completely close her right eye when her own blood drips over it from the gash on the side of head. Santana's arms are in a stage of comatose, weighing down from the metal constraints around her wrists assuring her she isn't going anywhere. She's resting on her knees, more surprised at how she hasn't fallen over already.

"Stand up," a voice commands behind her. When she doesn't move, she's lifted to her feet too fast for her head to handle. She wants to get sick, it's well overdue.

Santana stumbles over for a second when she feels a grip painfully constrict around her arms keeping her in place and balanced. There is another presence on the side of her, and when he talks, she immediately knows it's the Ring Master. The sick fuck that killed Brittany in front of her, who taunted her, who she swears to kill if it is the last thing she ever does.

He starts yelling at the man who was gripping onto Santana's arm, making her head pound even more. The other man might have only yelled for a second when his voice is suddenly cut off, and his body falls to the ground next to her in a blurry heap.

"I'm sorry about that," He actually sounds sincere. Just the sound of his voice starts to fuel her again. "But, look, I have a surprise for you." He tries to lift her head, only to meet empty eyes and lets her head fall lazily back down.

Nothing is clear anymore, that was, until she heard _her_voice.

She can still hear it, no matter how much she tries to stop it. It haunting her how well she could still hear Brittany's voice clearly. She is losing it; there isn't any other explanation on why her mind is now playing dirty tricks on her. Santana's breath hitches when she hears her own name again. With every ounce left in her body, left in her soul, she manages to glance up.

For the thousandth time, her breath is stolen from her when she sees Brittany standing in front of her. Her blonde hair is glimmering even in the dim light; her smooth skin looks untouched and reminds Santana of a marble statue, and her motions are so fluid, they're practically angelic.

Santana feels like she has never truly seen Brittany until this very moment, and her beauty is just astonishing.

Tears are swelling up in her eyes, and she's doing her best to blink them away before they obscure Brittany's image before her any more than they already have. Santana comes to the conclusion that she is being tortured in some form or another. There is no plausible reason that this could be, at any chance, real.

The she hears that laugh again, that dark and sickening laugh.

"She doesn't believe you are real." He continues.

Santana's face is cradled by cool hands, and instantly she is taken back to the moment that afternoon. She wants to get lost in it; the way Brittany vibrates with laughter underneath her, the smell of her shampoo, the life in her eyes, the heat from her skin under Santana's lips, the happiness that she fills Santana's body with-

"San, I'm here," Brittany's words wash over her, delusively numbing all the pain. This is it, she is sure she is dying. Or at least she is almost there. Brittany is fading in and out of Santana's vision, but Santana is determined to claw her way back from the darkness and not lose sight of her, not again.

She is ready to be pulled from the nightmare, to be rid of the pain her wreaked body was now based upon, and to be with Brittany where eve that may have been. Anything to be with her again.

When her face is let go, Santana's heart sinks needing that touch even if it is hallucinated.

Though Brittany seems to be yelling about something, it is not directed at Santana, but it_ is_about her.

A small gust of air passes through Santana's hair, and she knows that there is another person next to her. Faintly she makes out the shady looking figure grab at Brittany's wrist, brings it to their mouth, and bites into it. Brittany lets out a small whimper yanking her hand away three seconds too late.

Santana's body jumps when something is quickly places over her mouth, and floods it with a thick metallic tasting liquid. Its blood, she's got that right, but the more that she's able to swallow, the sweeter it begins to taste in a sick and twisted way.

The more she thought about what she was actually doing, the more she wanted to push away from it, to spit it out, to get sick; but she is so exhausted.

In a matter of seconds, her head is clearing up and the pounding reduces to an almost nothing. She's able to register all of the sounds around her, and her vision is becoming more vivid and less of a blurred mess it was before.

How is this even possible? Thirty seconds ago Santana doubted she'd have been able to spell her name correctly, or make a coherent sentence if she tried. Now all of the sudden she can hear the buzzing coming from the overhead light, and smell Brittany's perfume as if it had been sprayed it directly in her face.

"San?" Santana hears the angle's voice again, and looks up quicker than she could have done earlier.

"Brittany?" She breathes relieved, but now is suddenly more confused than ever. Sobs are being let out from her chest, and the only other thing she is capable of doing right that second is apologize; over and over.

Brittany holds onto Santana's shoulders, comforting her in the best way possible, and tells her that she is there with her. Insisting that she was real, all of this was real, how she was fine and tells Santana to breathe, and to calm down.

But who in the hell could calm down at a time like this?

"Listen San, I have to do something, something really bad, but I have too, or Grady is going to hurt you." There is something about the way Brittany is talking, and the tone that carries with each word that unravels Santana's nerves again.

Santana is still pleading for forgiveness to Brittany about not being able to save her.

"Little Brittany," There is that voice again, pouring liquid flames into Santana's veins. "Don't make me get angry, hurry now. Like I showed you."

Santana can feel Brittany's hands starting to shake even though she is still trying to caress her face lovingly.

"Feed yourself, give her more of your blood, and then finish it. Simple."

Santana's head is quickly beginning to spin again, "W-What is he-" she's only able to manage her words in low increments. Brittany looks around them helplessly, still trying in her best effort to comfort Santana the way she always used to.

"Phase one will be completed and everything will be over with."

Brittany focuses her attention back to Santana, an undoubting sadness is over coming her as she whispers only to Santana,

"I'm so sorry, He'll kill you for good if I don't," she says and Santana's hand is being brought to Brittany's lips. It only takes a second to register that the sharp pain in her wrist is being caused by Brittany; her mouth pressed against it, sucking on it and Santana's body immediately goes weak like before.

Brittany seems like she is having trouble stopping, having trouble letting go of Santana's wrist; but when she does, she's snapping it away from her, and wipes her mouth with her sleeve.

"San you have to drink, you have to drink more," her voice is coating each word with an uncertainty. "Please," she is pleading now. Santana heard her make another small noise in discomfort, and her mouth is being pressed to again with Brittany's arm. The same liquid fills her mouth, and this time she absolutely doesn't have the strength to fight it. She had been drained again.

She has to be being tortured now, this is ungodly.

Santana starts to cry again, letting the tears fall when she hears Brittany caved in and is doing the same thing.

"Don't you love birds want to be together forever?" He claps impatiently. "Kill her now." His words are threating _her_more than Santana.

The thought clicks in Santana's head in what Brittany is being asked to do; the tears come faster. Brittany embraces Santana, cooing words to her, but anything she says is hardly recognizable through the insistent sobs and out bursts coming from Santana. Never has she felt this way, she has officially let herself go.

Santana doesn't realize what she's saying until it is already out in the open. It just overcame her. If this saves Brittany, at any possible rate, what the hell is she waiting for?

"It's okay," Santana says in the crook of Brittany's shoulder.

Brittany lets out a sob,

"Brittany it's okay." Santana's words have become lifeless in themselves.

She lets out another gasp of air, telling Santana she doesn't want to, that she can't. Santana only repeats herself louder when they're interrupted.

"Come on Brittany, if I do it, she won't wake up, I promise." And he means it.

"San.."

"Just do it,"

"Oh San," Her voice cracks, and tears are stained down her face.

"Do it Brittany."

She holds on to the sides of Santana's face, leaning up to kiss her forehead one last time.

"I love you San,"

"I love you too Brittany."

The last thing Santana feels is Brittany's smooth hands of the sides of her face, then everything goes black again.

Blank.

Dark.

Empty.

* * *

Oh, and, I have came up with different versions of supernatural creatures (like the vampires here) , so, if you can't deal with that, you might not want to continue reading. This has also been remade.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

This a few months after the first chapter, and I'm still trying to figure out if I'm going to do like a part.2B sort of thing next or so a mix of past and present for chapter three. Sounds more confusing than I mean it too.(X

**Warning again: This is not a story for the faint of heart and contains violence, gore, and some twisted scenes.**  
(I still don't know why I'm doing this)

* * *

(Prolog: Becoming a part of the show part.2)

Quinn's head teeters to the side observing the finishing details she's added to her painting. She cleans off her brush coming to terms that she doesn't think she'll ever be 100% completely satisfied with it, and there is no point hiding the fact. Painting is something to pass time yes, but she will always prefer holding a camera over the brush.

It's early, and New York is just starting to come to life again for another day. Quinn pulls out her phone to check the time but she ends up getting side tracked and is scrolling through her contacts. She passes over Brittany's name, and wonders why those two haven't texted her in over three months, it was just odd. Quinn continues to go through the list of people only to land on another familiar name.

Rachel's.

Quinn pauses for a second, and she doesn't understand why she does in the first place. She can't bring herself to erase the name, but the number has been deleted well over a while now. Quinn is pulled out of her own thoughts when the front door opens with trailing voices close behind. Impulsively, Quinn yanks up the old white bed sheet, and tosses it over the painting.

Sophie, her roommate for the past year, comes dancing into the room offering out a cup of coffee to Quinn. She takes the coffee and notices Sophie isn't alone, her boyfriend Chris is leaning up against the door frame.

"Let me see it," She says giving Quinn a daring look.

"It's not finished," Quinn uses as an excuse and takes a sip of her coffee. Sophie turns around to laughing to Chris and she's motioning over her shoulder at Quinn.

"Quinn is really good. She's just too stubborn to admit it." She says before they leave the room. It doesn't take five minutes until Quinn hears her name being called.

"What's up?" Quinn asks out loud heading to the kitchen.

"I forgot what I wanted to tal-Oh! Yeah, hey what're you doing tonight?" Sophie sounds anxious, too anxious.

Quinn pans out different scenarios in her head, debating on how she should respond. She knows Sophie can see through her lies anyway, so each word has to sound convincing even to Quinn herself.

"Um,-"

"Cause, Chris and I, were walking through the park when we see this circus, or 'freak show' thing and tents were all over the place. Rides are going, and it's swamped with people already so it must be open or something." She interrupts knowing Quinn's intentions to well. Quinn looks over to Chris, and his only answer is a shrug; clearly he wasn't going to let her get off the hook so easily if he couldn't.

"I don't even remember them setting up or anything, it's weird." Sophie grabs his bagel out of his hand and takes a bite. "We should totally go tonight, its Friday night, what better way to start the off the weekend?" She's talking with her mouth full.

Quinn just sort of stands there, afraid to answer.

"Look Quinn, we'll have fun." Suddenly her eyes widen in excitement and she's bouncing up and down. "Oh! We'll make it a double date!" She's all too serious for Quinn's taste. "You know Tyler has wanted to go on another date with you." She points out raising an eyebrow. "Okay, well, I'll leave you to finish whatever mystery waits in the other room," Sophie is waving her hand around in the air, "And let you get ready for your date!" She practically squeaks. Chris is looking at Quinn with an apology weighing heavily in his eyes, then Sophie is back in front of her.

"What?"

"Do you want this for good luck?" She is holding up her wrist to Quinn, motioning to her silver and blue charm bracelet. She shakes the jewelry, and it chimes out. "It's your turn to have it you know."

"You keep it for tonight." Quinn declines, but is sincere about it.

"Alright then, I'll call you later," She kisses Quinn's cheek and Chris offers his hand out to her.

"Don't leave me stranded," He's jokes.

"Like she would ever let me." Quinn smiles and the two leave.

After a couple of hours, Quinn heads back to the kitchen to make something to eat. Sophie had left the flyer on the kitchen island purposely to catch Quinn's attention. She swipes up the piece of paper, and scans over it. There's two dates on the bottom, and the one marked Friday was circled. Whether she knew it or not, she was going to the show according to Sophie. The show calls itself the best show she'd ever witness, both terrifying and full of excitement; unlike anything she'll ever see in her life.

She doesn't understand why, but something about the way that small piece of paper presents itself, she's feeling more convinced to go. What could it hurt?

Sophie ended up getting a huge group from their Sociology class to go, and Quinn doesn't even recognize most of them; so much for a double date, not like she cared. Sophie moseys on over to Quinn,

"Here come's your man now," She warns before disappearing back in the group. There's a hand on Quinn's back lightly, and another body fills the space next to her.

"Hey," Tyler's beaming. Tyler is a good guy, don't get Quinn wrong, but she really isn't looking to date anyone at the moment. In a way, he reminds her of Sam from high school, with the kindness and the childish grin he can give; everything aside from all the impressions.

"Pumped for the show?"

She shrugs, "I guess so, don't really know what to expect."

"Right, right." He's doing a fascinating job trying to not make this too awkward. The last time Sophie set them up on a date, he was all for it, and Quinn didn't want to upset Sophie, so she went along with it. Suffice to say, she didn't call him after, and she felt bad for it, but that was her way of letting him down easy; that obviously translates into "try, try, try again" in Sophie's book.

"But don't worry, if you get scared, I'll hold your hand." Tyler is too kind to Quinn, and nudges her shoulder playfully with that same grin on his face.

The deeper they make their way into the show; the more Quinn is reminded of Halloween. There is a presence the place gives, and none of it is settling comfortably in the back if Quinn's mind. Signs are plastered all over the event "freak show this" or "freak show that" but from the looks more like a mundane try with a circus. Quinn can't shake the feeling the place is giving her, but what's even worse, is that she can't tell if it is a good or a bad feeling to begin with.

Sophie jumps on Quinn in excitement, trapping her in a bear hug.

"Isn't this insane?" Sophie is hopeful expecting Quinn to have the same reaction. Quinn tries to muster up what she can so not to bring the girl's energy down.

"Yeah, pretty freaky," Quinn nods.

"It's called a Freakshow Quinn, not a pleasant-happy-go-lucky show." She's laughing sarcastically.

Quinn is only left shaking her head at her roommate, and Sophie's off her back attacking Chris's. That's when Quinn notices Tyler is standing too close for comfort, she looks up at him trying to easy her own tension.

"When does the show start?"

He stares back at her for a moment, stunned she's acknowledging him. "Uh-um, I think in a few? Planning on hitting some of these rides after?" He gives a dorky smile.

"Maybe, just curious." Quinn finishes when they approach the largest tent.

The best comparison Quinn can call this place, is a wild zoo solely dedicated to housing rabid animals. It's hard to tell if the crowds are screaming or cheering at this point. The group finally finds a spot to squeeze down in and sit. The second they do, a woman dressed as a dead nurse with a bullet wound protruding from the center of her chest greets them. An IV stand is at her hip with red jell-o shot bags hanging off of the hooks for sale; clever idea. She's talking to Sophie and Chris about prices when someone over the nurse's shoulder catches Quinn's attention.

She has flowing dark brown hair, there's a pink headband, and there is something familiar about the way the girl is talking with her hands that immediately makes Quinn's heart stop; she's standing mid-thought. When the girl turns around, Quinn's heart sinks inside to a new level of disappointment.

Tyler grabs Quinn's hand for her attention, but her mind is blank and it takes a minute.

"Quinn?"

She feels his hand around hers, and glances down at him with an equal amount of confusion that he's giving.

"Is everythi-"

Quinn yanks her hand away like he's burned her, and spits out,  
'I'm going to go get us some popcorn or something.'

She spins away from him trying to shuffle past the horde she calls her class, when another hand has the audacity to stop her. Her head snaps to the culprit only to meet worried eyes from Sophie.

"What's wrong?" She has to yell and that still doesn't seem to work.

Quinn can hardly make it out, but she swallows hard and lies to one of her best friends.

"I just need to-"

Quinn is interrupted by the starting music roaring to life. Sophie smiles sweetly, there are no more words to say between them, she knows; and Quinn is out of the tent.

_I'm a fool to think that was her. _Quinn's thinks to herself.

Quinn sends a couple apart by slamming between them to get by.

It is really about how she hoped it was her in the first place that bothered her most.

_Why on earth would she even be in a place like this anyway? Why the hell am I?_

A loud voice booms over the speakers outside, causing Quinn to jump.

_"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome!"_

Quinn is shoving her way through eager people who are trying to get back inside in time.

_"Come closer come closer, you won't believe your eyes,"_

Cheers bellow from behind her. She's trying to ignore it, to ignore everything that she's feeling. Quinn wishes for a moment that she made Sophie come with her, maybe that's what she really needed. She removes the thought from her head.

_"Witness something you've never seen before! Heard before! Dreamt of before!"_

No matter how far Quinn manages to get, she can't escape from the man's voice fast enough; she doesn't care where she's going, she only cares about leaving this place.

_"The greatest show on earth!"_ Echo's and a choir sings along with the circus chimes and the announcer. _"Are you ready to be wildly entertained!"_

The further she gets from the main event tent, the circus outside has been practically abandoned. Lights are blinking and flashing, and the games are ringing "step right up" and "winner every time" but there isn't one person around to play them. No one is at the controls for the rides that are still running, and there is not one soul on the rides themselves. Quinn's mind doesn't have enough time to figure out what is happening.

_"They say, things aren't always what they seem to be! Is it all just fun and games? Or is there more behind the makeup? I ask you, do you want to,"_

She's out of the main gates, and before she can make it any further she's shoved to the ground so hard it knocks the breath out of her; Quinn is dazed scurrying to get back to her feet.

"_Come and play_?" A voice speaks in unison with the announcer. When she's able to stand up right, panic rises to her throat when there isn't a body to blame for shoving her.

It happens again, and she's sent back to the ground; this time when she tries to break her fall, an agonizing pain shoots up her arm from her wrist and it is safe to say that it is likely to be broken.

"Such a pretty girl." A man says again. "You're sure this is her?" He's asking someone else Quinn can't see.

If Quinn had any air in her lungs she would undoubtedly be screaming out in pain, but she can't even take in a full breath to try.

"You sure stand out more when you leave early." The blackness around Quinn is taunts her. Fear consumes her, and the second she's able to get back on her feet, she's full on sprinting.

The same voice follows her like its inside her head, but she doesn't slow down in the slightest.

"The perfect test,"

Quinn's vision is becoming blurry increasing fast when tears start coming at the most inconvenient time, and pains registering in her brain about that broken wrist. That's not the worst part though, the fact she knows someone is right behind her no matter how fast she's running, concludes that there are new levels of fear a human body can possess.

She's grabbed by her arms, and in seconds flat, she is pinned between a tree and another body that's pressed against hers roughly. The proximity that they share is sickening. His breath is hot and sticky on her face like a wild dog, and he reeks of something so ungodly she can't even sort out the possible different scents. When his fingers brush against her skin to move the hair away from her neck, she can feel the bile rising to her throat, she knows what's coming. Quinn can't make out his face, and this only serves to terrify her more.

This has become the clichés of all screwed up films.

Quinn can feel him dip his head low to her neck, and take in a very long and perverted breath into his lungs. With the fight she has left, she lashes out, slaps the man across the face and struggles to break free.

"Kitty's got some claws." He's laughing at her attempt to flee. He straightens her up, grabs her face with his gritty hands and forces her to look in his direction. "Man, you sure are something."

"Hurry up." Quinn almost completely forgot about the second voice; but this time, she can tell it is in fact, a woman's voice.

The man lets out another disgusting laugh.

"Oh, I was. Until I knew this little one had fight left in her." Then after Quinn thinks this couldn't possibly get any worse, he literally licks up the side of her face hungrily; there would be no surprise at all if she emptied her stomach right then and there.

By some miracle, she manages to kick the man between the legs, and makes for one last attempt to escape. Quinn wants to say she makes it a couple of feet away, but she hardly makes it a few inches before she's slammed against another tree. "You know what, I was just going to snap your neck, make it quick. But now, I've changed my mind."

A syringe plunges into her neck, and injects something inside of her. Quinn's neck is on fire, and those flames are spreading through her body irrationally fast. She goes to scream for help, but terror yanks the sound right out of her body when a pressure cuts through her abdomen.

'Sleep tight Sweetheart.' Is the last thing she hears from the man before he disappears.

Quinn looks down, so slowly that it could have been five minutes before she a sees silver reflecting off the little light the moon had to offer. She doesn't know how long she's been holding her breath since the object speared through her, until she finally tries to let one out only for it to be cut short by a strangled cry.

She can't come to correct terms right now. She's been stabbed, and it is so deep, she can feel the tip of the blade has cleared out of her back, and has embedded itself the tree behind her. Quinn grabs the handle of the blade jutting out from under her ribcage, and instantaneously lets out another whimper like a trapped animal, because the vibrations from her touch rack her body's insides.

Quinn's breathing turns into gasping and is echoed by the bewildering late reaction of pain the more she struggles with removing the foreign object from her body. An unwanted taste of metallic fills her mouth and it has been spilling out from around the blade uncontrollably. Blood is covering her hand, making her slip with each grip she actually manages to get around the handle.

Her body can only panic now. If she doesn't get this blade that's pinning her to this tree, it's going to be the death of her; she'll no doubt be on the cover of news's magazines as a reminder to never go out alone or something stupid. What will her friends think? What will the whole Glee club think?

_I can't die. Not like this._

Pain explodes from all sides of her when she wraps her discolored fingers around the handle; sweat causes her hair to stick to her face, just to add another thing to obscure her vision. She feels the tip of the blade loosen from the bark, and now all that's left, is pulling it through the rest of her body. It's so terrible, so excruciating, she wants to pass out just from touching the damn weapon. Quinn gathers up as much will as she can, and rips it out of her with one regrettable wrenching motion.

The blade makes a repulsive slickening sound when it slides out from her body; a sound that echoes repeatedly through her ears.

Quinn's hands are shaking so bad, she can't even manage to hold the blade for more than three seconds before it clatters the ground. She collapses to her knees, one hand clasping the wound that's bleeding more profusely now. The mere thought of screaming causes pain, and she falls over onto her side. She can hear her heart struggling, beating furiously to keep her broken body alive.

Consciousness is fading; she is paralyzed and bleeding to death.

_No one was going to find me. Not in time._

"I am going to die." She whispers to no one. But she's not dead yet, and the agony isn't going away.

Quinn's body is so mangled and destroyed that when she tries to cry, the only thing that comes out are strangled moans. The comforting heat her body used to offer is completely gone, and she's freezing, shivering where she's lying.

Quinn's head is cloudy, the world is starting to become nothing a muffled sound, and she slips away.

When Quinn feels a heat running over her body, she finds an immediate comfort in it not willing to let it go.

_Maybe a heaven does exist after all._

She opens her eyes slowly, and has to blink a few times because the light is unnaturally bright. Quinn's once wreaked body, is currently vacant from all pain. The only feeling she can comprehend, is a weight in her chest, and her throat is so dry it's like sand paper. She sits up waiting for the pain to come, but when it doesn't she looks down; her eyes widen the second her vision is clear again.

Quinn's sweater is beyond recognition, covered in different shades of red caked onto the fabric. There are holes, and tares, but she not only covered in what she thinks is her own blood, but she's also covered in dirt. Her throat begins to swell, and when she sifts herself to stand up, she bumps into something stiff, and cold.

Her hands snap to her mouth muffling a scream when she realizes there are two men on each side of her. Their necks and chests are torn, gashed open in an ungodly way while terror is plastered to their faces.

Quinn shuffles out backwards from between the men starting to freak out. When her hand pulls away from her mouth, there is another shade of red added to her sleeve. She is up and standing in the thought, searching around her for anything, for anyone.

This has to be terrible dream.

The show's gone. Like it never happened. She's still in Central Park; it's not a place you forget. Usually on the weekend there is a lot more people, especially this time in the afternoon. Quinn doesn't dwell on the thought because her mind is racing a million miles a minute. She hastily finds her way to a small pond, and doesn't dare to look at her reflection. Quinn scrubs at her face, and her hands, removing any traces of blood. She doesn't know what to do next, but questions are slamming around in her head repeatedly.

What's happening? What happened to those men? Why was she next to them? How come nothing hurts anymore?

She pauses, and looks down feeling around her stomach for the gash she couldn't have hallucinated if she wanted too. Quinn feels the hole in her shirt, but when her fingers slip through the hole to her skin, she doesn't feel anything other than a small bump.

A scar.

Quinn's head is spinning, and something inside of her takes over like a human instinct, leaving her with only one thought.

_Get home._

She spins on her heel from the bodies when she sees a black hooded biker jacket on the ground. Quinn picks it up, sees no trace of blood, and throws it over her shoulders. She pulls the hood up and hurries home before anyone can see her.

The door slams with more force intended on Quinn's end.

"Soph?" Quinn calls out running to the girl's room. "Sophie?" She calls out again into an empty house. She's standing in the hallway, her roommate's name being said just barely above a whisper now. Her eyes begin to water, when a clock alarms starts to go off and startles her.

_Wait. That's an alarm for Sophie's afternoon class._

Quinn sees the date on Sophie's bedside clock, and collapse to her knees.

It's been three days since the show; and she has no recognition of any of them.

This can't be happening, there is no way this is real. If it were, she should be lying on the ground in Central park, dead with a broken body, or in a morgue; not at home, not after that injury, not alive. She takes the jacket off and stuffs it into the trash, heading for the shower.

Quinn lets the water run over her while she sits with her knees to her chest on the shower floor; it would have been soothing if it wasn't for the fact that more blood is being washed off of her and circling down the drain at her feet.

"What is happening?" She asks herself in a low voice holding her face in her hands.

Why hadn't anyone come and look for her? Where is Sophie? How in the hell is she alive? Those men… All that blood…

Questions reel so out of control to a point it leaves her unable to tell what water is and what tears are that are falling down her face.

It takes a while, but she is able to calm herself down to get changed into a new set of clean clothes. Thirst brings her to the kitchen, and she goes to get a class of water. Quinn barley gets a sip down when her body instantly rejects the liquid, and she's hunched over the garbage can.

After the attempt, nothing sounds appealing in the slightest; but there is still a hunger. A weird, gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach that's suddenly more noticeable after the water endeavor. A knock on the door startles her for the hundredth time.

The man with short golden brown hair wearing a gray suit jacket over a black shirt, is standing in her door way. Quinn is taken back for a moment, and if she's not mistaken, she swears he had same reaction on his face when he sees her. He leans backwards to check the address on the house then back at Quinn.

"Ma'am?" He says dipping his head down for a second; he must be a cop.

"Y-Yes?" She says cautiously getting angry with her self's lack of control.

"How're you feeling love?" He asks casually and an eyebrow is raised; by his accent, he sounds like he is from England.

Quinn's confused. "Can I help you with something?"

He starts to laugh. "Yes, you can start by thanking Me."

"Thanking you?" Quinn doesn't understand what the hell he is talking about.

"For cleaning up the mess you made in Central park."

Her eyes widen, and she takes a step backwards with the door knob in hand.

"No, no I'm sorry but-"

"I'm terribly sorry, let's start over. My name is Shamus, but you can call me Grady, or O'Grady whichever you prefer." He's trying to sound charming. It would have worked if Quinn's body wasn't screaming at her to shut and deadbolt the door.

"I have to go." She's just about to shut the door,

"Quinn."

She freezes when she hears her name, and the door is opening again; but slowly.

"How do you know my name?" Quinn could cut the tension in the air with a knife.

"I'm not here to scare you. I'm here to help you." He lets out a chuckle.

Quinn crosses her arms still unsure. "Help me?"

It hits some nerve, and he starts laughing shaking his head at her.

"Oh Quinn, I can't have you running around New York killing everybody." He says each word aimlessly like they've known each other for years. Flashes of the men flailing for help, and blood spewing everywhere fills her head; the images are endless.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." She almost has the door closed when a foot prevents it from shutting. He lets out a slightly irritated sigh, and shoves the door back open with hardly any force.

"Oh, I think you do." The man, Grady, pulls a man Quinn has never seen before in her life, into her view. He's holding him by the back of his shirt collar like he's a pet, and the man looks utterly terrified. Quinn wonders why he doesn't call out for help, or scream in general with that look on his face, but then she remembers fear can easily steal away such actions.

Wind blows in from outside, and immediately her senses start change. Quinn's body is heating up again, like when she was attacked, but this time the pain isn't unbearable; it actual feels good, it feels… natural.

Her blood's rushing, and her body is tensing up like she has taken some kind of crazy drug; but she doesn't want the feeling to stop.

Quinn thinks that insistent thump of a heart beat is coming from her, but when she focuses in on it more, she finds out just how wrong she is. The faster the beat rang in her ears, the hotter the flames rose in her throat. Quinn's eyes can only hone in on the pulsing area of the man's neck, while everything else in the world gradually starts to go black.

"So I'm not at the wrong house." He interjects and Quinn's body tightens up in defense. "You were really hard to find actually. I've never had such a hard time with strays." He laughs again.

"Please leave," Quinn hears her voice say agonistically.

"Aren't you hungry though, Quinn?" He asks teasingly.

Quinn doesn't have enough time to give him a disgusted stare before a new, inviting scent slams into her like a wrecking ball. Her head is spiraling uncontrollably; she needs to sit down. When she looks back up to the two men, the one being held captive now has a fresh cut from his forearm down to his wrist; and it's bleeding out rapidly.

She's becoming delirious.

Now the fire inside her is at uncomfortable level, insisting and grows hotter. Staring at the dark liquid draining from his arm, she's licking at her lips feeling how dry they have been from being parted for so long. She despises herself for being attracted to something so grotesque.

But she does want it.

Something inside her… needs it.

"What are you doing?" Magically Quinn has found herself grounded.

The man is forces to tilt his head, and expose his neck. Quinn's body is shaking, running off nothing but pure adrenaline again.

"Convincing you to listen to me." He states stabbing a knife directly into the crook of the prisoner's neck, and nearly throws the body at Quinn. Before Quinn can understand what is happening, her mouth is already at the man's throat and she's letting the metallic liquid fill her mouth. Her teeth pierce through his skin effortlessly, trying to sink in further down to get as much of the stuff that's quenching the burning inside of her. Quinn doesn't have to try hard to hold his flailing body down while he feebly attempts to fight her off of him. His body eventually goes limp, and she literally feels the life leave his body.

Quinn shoves the dead body away from her in the disgusted with herself, and is more disoriented than ever. O'Grady nudges the body away from Quinn with his foot, and shuts the door. He's kneeling in front of her with his hands resting on her shoulders in a soothing way.

"I'm going to help you."

Quinn is in disbelief. "I-I, what am.." Her voice is shaky, and she won't try to make another coherent sentence.

He tilts his head scanning her over, studying her like something he has never seen before.

"Everything is going to be alright." He promises, but there's something about the way he is smiling at Quinn that makes her question his true motives.

* * *

These both are prologues, but since it won't save on the other chapter, I'm saying it now. It's meant to leave plenty of questions, and show you another side to the infamous "O'Grady" character.


End file.
